Winter's Tear
by UnluckyAmulet
Summary: If you know how devastating something will be, you'd do everything in your power to avoid it, right? That's what Vriska thought too...at first. JOHNVRIS ALL THE WAY.


Disclaimer: Hussie owns Homestuck. I'm just writing a fanfic.

So I recently started shipping JohnVris with a sudden passion. He's not the only person I ship her with, but this ship inspires SO MUCH FEELS that I couldn't help myself. I've also been going through kind of a stressful time, emotionally, so I wanted to try channeling it into something productive, hence this fanfic was born. It's funny how much I can indentify with Vriska, she is one of my favourite characters now. (Apologies if I get minor details wrong, I haven't read HS in a while.) JohnVris all the way, baby! (Miiiiiiiinor sidepairings occur but they aren't important to the overall story.) For an optimal reading experience, I recommend putting on "Do You Remem8er Me?"

Enjoy!

* * *

At first, your intention was just to troll him.

You were kinda bored, after all, and you needed some irons in the fire. More of them than you already had, anyway. You knew your mind powers couldn't really do much to these strange human kids aside from put them to sleep, so trolling was the next best thing.

Truthfully, at first, he came off as kind of dumb and gullible. You told him that your name was Marquise Spinneret Mindfang and he drank it up. It felt weird having somebody call you by your FLARP name for real, though, even if it was some derpy human. You pretended to be more annoyed than you were when he used your real name. You were more surprised than anything; you hadn't expected him to figure it out. But suddenly, when your name would appear in his hopeful-looking blue font that matched his eyes, it would make you smile. You still thought he was a bit silly- he had to be to listen to Terezi and Karkat, after all. But slowly, you actually began to wait for him. You knew that it had gone beyond Trolling now, but you didn't care because you were having fun. That was all it was. Right?

Right.

Your fingers would fly over the keyboard in excitement as his blue text appeared on the screen. You could see his face from where you were, and it made you laugh to see the wide spectrum of emotions that would flit across his face. He always seemed so...impressed by you. Is impressed the right word? Or is it just what a genuine friendship feels like? You're not too sure. It flattered you, you had to admit. You liked being on the receiving end of positive attention for a change. It kind of surprised you to admit this, even to yourself. Your reputation of being the bitch of the Trolls was something that defined you. You liked it that everyone was scared of you and treated you with a combination of fear and contempt. Or...so you'd thought.

You had always been so sure that in order to have people respect you, they had to fear you. Didn't that make sense? Everybody let Karkat call himself the leader, but you always figured it was just because he was so loud and pushy about it that it was easier just to let him.

It didn't occur to you at first people liked Karkat enough to tolerate being bossed around by him. You certainly weren't scared of Karkat, but even you found yourself humoring him and his stupid "movies for girls"-style analysis of you. You didn't believe a word of it, but you were on the red team and that was the end of the matter as far as you were concerned. But when John came around, it felt good to be doing something that wasn't a direct order. You've never answered to anybody except yourself up until now, after all. (Except perhaps your Lusus, but obviously, you don't like to think too much about that. It's hard to stay cocky when you think about giant spider mandibles hovering above you.)

Slowly, you began to tell John stuff about yourself. At first you were just describing Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, and strangely enough, the novelty of pretending to be your alter ego wore off very quickly. It seemed kind of stupid. Plus, it was fun comparing the difference between human and troll culture (well, aside from the embarrassing incident with the bucket, at least).

The thing you began talking about were true things as well, not the meaningless bullshit the other trolls were concentrating on. At first it was just a tidbit here, a tidbit there, but soon it evolved into something not even you could have predicted. Eventually you told him about your Lusus. The burden that she is...that she was, on you. Then you told him all about finding Mindfang's journal, of the legacy that unfolded right before your young eyes. How you tried to follow her footsteps and be somebody that your ancestor could be proud of indirectly fostering. And John loved hearing about it, and having such an appreciative audience felt good. Soon, you started to wonder about John, about being a human and their strange culture.

You thought it sounded pretty sweet, actually.

Especially if there were ones like John around.

* * *

When you taught him how to fly ("Do the windy thing!") and he passed, he made it, you began to wonder...could this guy be the hero? The kind of hero that you had always secretly been dying to meet, but you never could find someone to measure up. John was the kind of hero Tavros could never be.

It made you so happy. To think that you were the one who helped John reach his true potential.

And before you knew it, you, Vriska Serket, were flushed.

You've never been truly flushed before. Not really. It is an odd sensation. To be honest, you're not entirely sure what to do about it. Then again, you've never been very good at expressing your feelings in a particularly emotionally healthy manner. Probably a by-product of having to routinely slaughter other trolls to feed to your Lusus.

The only thing you _do_immediately understand is the jealousy. Sure, you already know that John needs to hurry up and fix his friend, but even though you're telling him to do it, you suddenly feel inexplicably pissed about the situation. Yeah, it was necessary and everything, but you still are irrationally annoyed and you just can't help it. Luckily though, it doesn't seem to threaten your blossoming redcrush too much, so you eventually get over it. But still, it's kind of weird to be so twitchy. You're new at this whole thing, after all.

Really, you're not even entirely sure if your black feelings have been as straightforward as you thought. Eridan took it so seriously that in the end you just got bored with it. Plus, you suspect he would have been black for just about anybody, so it was no big deal getting out of that particular blackrom. Tavros was too late in his own hate- too busy being terrified of you to properly reciprocate. Soon, you just got angry with him for not even having the balls to hate his own tormentor. It was pathetic. And it made you angry to even admit that you once had feelings for somebody so pathetic.

In your own twisted way, you had been trying to _help_Tavros be the kind of Troll the Summoner was. Someone who could grow into Mindfang's adversary with you. Hell, you even put on the damn fairy costume for him. (Okay, that part was kind of fun. Even you'll admit it.) But he just failed. Over and over again. Every damn time. You even managed to give him a chance to kill you, you were literally completely at his mercy, physically and maybe that would have finally ended the vicious cycle. But no, he couldn't even do that. And it never did occur to you that you were the one who was damaging him. You had killed so many you didn't really even remember the exact number any more, but Tavros hadn't. You knew you shouldn't have even been trying to help- he was a lowblood, after all. He was so meek and whiny that everyone else rushed to defend him from you. It amazed you that he had even managed to survive grubhood, although you won't say his ability to communicate with animals isn't useful, considering what you used it for...

But you were kind of bitter about all these proverbial knights in shining armor. Kanaya, Aradia, Terezi...you wonder if they genuinely cared for Tavros or if they were just doing it to piss you off. You certainly wouldn't put it past them.

Nobody came riding to save you when you were young. You just had to figure shit out and survive. Yes, maybe you got a little fucked up along the way, but you lived through it, goddammit. Because you didn't have a choice.

So why did nobody care about protecting you, when you needed it?

And yet strangely, when you put John through those trials and began confessing your mistakes, you found yourself admitting to John you felt guilty. Which was crazy in of itself- it was fucking Tavros you were talking about- but the fact you were trusting not only someone else, but a human, was so unreal. And the fucking cherry on top of it all? He let you talk. He said he didn't think any less of you, because you _had _to kill or die horribly. He let you explain yourself, because he got that shit was more complicated than everybody else was so eager to make out. You trusted John.

And then

he forgot

about you.

And the truth is, you keep aching for what was there. It's like you have no internal organs anymore, or bones, or anything. Like you're a hollowed-out shell, scraped raw, the pain of being left behind and forgotten like an old toy both melancholic and wrath-inducing. You want to scream into the nothingness, because you're so angry at it all. Despite your ridiculous luck-manipulation, you feel so cheated. _How dare you? How dare you forget? How dare you make me feel things for you and then just fucking leave me behind?_

But the anger is shallow compared to what you're really thinking. Which is just how lonely you are.

All your life you've succeeded at pushing people away and turning them against you and you were proud of that fact. That was the way things were. It went with the territory of being a highblood after all. Didn't it? That's what Equius always encouraged you to think, it's what was _expected._ I backstab you, you backstab me, see you later! Have a nice fucking , maybe not for Gamzee, but even he turned out to have more loyalty to the hemospectrum then even you could have thought. The only one who didn't seem to have a hidden lust for bloodshed was Feferi, and look at how well that turned out for _her._If there was no hope for the Princess of the trolls, then what hope was there? Was hope even a thing anymore?

You don't think so. You're stuck in this silent, white world. No friends. No irons in the fire. Nothing. You're just a broken down doll in the heart of this unforgiving wilderness.

You are so stupid.

And you wonder if you had done things differently, would you still be here now? You know it's an effort in futility, because what's done is done. There is nothing you can change now. But knowing that doesn't help in any way, with you sitting here in the snow all by yourself.

Just because you push everyone away doesn't mean you wanted to be alone.

* * *

And then you see him.

Even though you have seen John plenty of times through your grubtop, bossing him along the way, you're still shocked. He looks slightly different- taller, somehow, or perhaps he's just grown since you last spoke.

Something seems very different.

He approaches you, in his dorky outfit, and he thinks you're just some weird alien girl who was pestering him only a few minutes ago and saying things that don't make sense and mentioning stories that he's never heard. It's pretty confusing for him. Still he comes out into the snow to speak with you. He has no idea who you are, yet he's giving you a chance anyway. It's one of the things you like about John. Maybe because it's so unlike you.

As you talk, though, you keep trying to jostle his memory, but it doesn't work. Because he just doesn't know. He has no fucking inkling of who you are.

This John never met you.

This John never grew strong because of you.

This John has no idea how long you've waited to actually meet him, or just how you're feeling now that he's looking at you without the slightest flicker of recognition, mouth drawn in a polite, hopeful smile. The kind of one you'd wear for a stranger. Even though you've been standing around in the snow for a while now, you feel even colder than before.

You are already dead, so you're kind of surprised by just how much this hurts.

But you look at his face and you can't tell him any of it. You, Vriska Serket, are many things: manipulative, rude, conniving, reckless, kind of a sociopath, violent and you are way too stubborn and prideful for your own good.

But you are not, nor have you ever been, weak.

You are not going to break down. You might be dead, but you will not let yourself succumb to weakness. Because even though you want him to remember, you just can't bring yourself to open old wounds and tell him how you feel. Because even if John- this John- doesn't remember you, he'd still get upset that he wasn't the right one. You don't know how you know this, but you do. You are certain of it. And you don't want to hurt John. As hard as this is, as horrible and fucking unfair, you like seeing him smiling at you. Just for a little while longer, at least.

So you smile.

"Hi John."

* * *

_vriska, if you read this, thanks again for all your help. i don't think i'd have made it this far if not for you! i just thought you should know that._

* * *

Somuchfeels. Gah.

Thank you for reading! :D


End file.
